


“Sweetest in the Gale”

by Its_not_tentacle_porn_shut_up_Joscelin



Series: “Forever is composed of Nows” [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Luke meets Ahsoka, Post-Star Wars: Rebels, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, ahsoka tano’s lightsaber, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:37:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24710164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Its_not_tentacle_porn_shut_up_Joscelin/pseuds/Its_not_tentacle_porn_shut_up_Joscelin
Summary: A few years after the Empire falls, Luke finds that small room on Mustafar and finally reunites the lightsaber with it’s owner.SEQUEL to “Too Mighty for the Daily Mind” read that first!
Series: “Forever is composed of Nows” [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1786501
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	“Sweetest in the Gale”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the first installment of this series directly after watching the series finale of The Clone Wars, and at the time was very sad. It’s been quite a few weeks now and some events in my life have lead to me having a generally more hopeful outlook on things in general, and also reevaluating the ending of TCW. So here, the happy ending that did, indeed, happen eventually. 
> 
> Like the first of this series, the title to this fanfic is taken from an Emily Dickinson poem. This one is from “Hope is the things with feathers”, which also happens to be a personal favorite.

It had been some years now, since the the Empire fractured and began to crumble. Since the Emperor died and took Vader with him. Enough years, in fact, that very little of that Empire remained in the galaxy that hadn’t been somehow repurposed or altogether done away with. 

One of those things that remained was a castle, and within that castle, a room. Luke Skywalker, son of the man who once owned (haunted) that castle, who once spent hours silently troubled in that room, had finally found it. Had finally come to see it dismantled, repurposed,  _ forgotten _ , like the rest of the relics of the Empire. 

When Luke first discovered the lightsaber (and the pictures, the machines, the colors, and an endless list of other random little things drenched in so much grief and longing it made him nauseous), he hadn’t known what the flashes of memory not his own meant. The whole room, locked deep in the winding depth’s of his father’s stronghold, was so filled with emotion and memories it took him a while to even notice that these ones were different. But he still hadn’t understood why, when he flicked on the sapphire blade so similar to his father’s lightsaber (the lightsaber his father stole from him along with his hand), he’d see the image of a woman, proud and  _powerful_ with tall curving montrals and brilliantly white markings. 

Each time he flipped that switch, the colors of the vision became brighter. Her eyes were no longer the vague idea of blue, but a sapphire as piercing as the lightsaber they reflected, and her skin wasn’t just a dull tan but a warm, _vibrant_ orange not unlike the color of sun set reflecting across the sand on Tattooine. The blurs of color around her grew brighter too, flashes of battles and blood and armor all growing brighter and brighter with every ignition of the blade. 

Each time he spun the saber in his hand, moving through the stilted two bladed katas he’d found in Ben’s journal with one green blade and one blue, the visions grew more detailed (and his katas grew smoother). The woman stood ready and younger than Luke was, in a throne room. She spun her sabers (two, just like he held now) in dizzying arcs agaisnt blaster fire on an open battlefield. She vaulted in free fall past a dogfight, lightsaber blazing a trail beside her. 

And each time he worked to repair and clean the cracked durasteel casing, there she was just behind his eyelids, the lines of her markings and the shape her montrals and lekku sharper and clearer every time. The blurs of brilliant white resolved into clean edged wings on her cheeks and eyebrow like stripes across her forehead that tapered down her nose and around her eyes. Her lekku not just blurs that spun around her face as she fought, but clearly shaped and striped with blue that looked like lightning. 

Clearer and clearer the vision got, until the lightsaber was once again in peak condition under his meticulous care, and that’s when he (finally) heard it. In the snap and hiss of the blade, there whispered a name: 

_Ahsoka._

And he then understood, he was not meant to keep this lightsaber. He was only meant to fix it ( _ to take care of it, make it good as new,  _ just like another Skywalker had, oh so long ago), and to bring it back to where, to  _ whom _ , it belonged. 

— 

Even with the combined resources of the New Republic and the Force at his disposal, it took the young Skywalker several months to track down the woman from his visions. She was, supposedly, dead after all. He’d learned that when he’d asked high command about a Togruta woman named Ahsoka (and boy had it been a shock to get hastily pulled into a conference room and asked none too politely how, exactly, he knew about Fulcrum Prime’s identity), about how she’d been reported KIA on the planet Malachor 3 BBY, killed by Vader himself. 

But Luke hadn’t believed that, didn’t think the Force would send him chasing after a ghost (usually the ghosts came to him, after all), and she didn’t...  _ feel  _ dead when he saw her in his visions. Han had given him a look when he’d said that, but shrugged told him that if he needed a ride his X-Wing couldn’t handle he’d be welcome to a ride in the Falcon (for a fair price, of course). 

Luke didn’t end up needing the Falcon, though it was a near thing when his chase took him way out to the edges of Wild Space, past even the Tatoo system and to the tiny grass planet of Lothal. There, it was easy to follow the pull of the Force, of the crystal that now _sang_ in it’s casing, to the outskirts of the main city, and to a ship docked at a repurposed communications tower. 

“Ahsoka!” Luke called out when he spotted the woman on the edge of the tower walkway, recognizing the striped montrals and lek (they were taller and longer now, the stripes thinner and more jagged, but still the same), and her markings (even sharper and brighter than the visions, curving over her cheeks and around her eyes) when she turned to look at him (and oh, but those eyes were exactly the same, still piercing, still filled with a fire as bright as the saber he was there to return). When he reached her, he held out the box he’d placed her lightsaber in. 

“I think I have something that belongs to you.” 


End file.
